


We are Nowhere

by Socratesandstartrek



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Short, So very short, dream - Freeform, short little johnlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Socratesandstartrek/pseuds/Socratesandstartrek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock drops in on sleeping John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We are Nowhere

“I haven’t been gone very long, but it feels like a lifetime,” Sherlock whispered into an almost-asleep John’s ear. He kissed the doctor’s neck. “I’m sorry,” he said, and kissed him again. John stirred, and Sherlock pulled himself away slowly. Still close, but no longer touching John’s hair, face.

“You’d better be, you…” John managed to smile. “Sherlock” he finished. Sherlock was sitting cross legged on the still-made side of the bed, facing John’s back. An unfamiliar urge to lie down and sleep crept into Sherlock. He shook it off. He wouldn’t dream of wasting these silent moments. It was easier to _think_ with John around. He’d missed the mental clarity. He wouldn’t admit it to himself, not even now, sitting in bed with the man, but he’d missed more than the clarity. He’d missed _John._

 

* * *

John reached one arm out, shut his alarm off sleepily and sighed. _There is no way it is morning already._ “Did you set the damn alarm early on a Saturday again?” he said loud enough for Sherlock who must be messing about in the kitchen to hear. “I was having the nicest dream that you” he yawned, pushing open the door “were still… alive.” Realization brought a familiar ache in his chest, and grief pressed behind his eyes. His hand, shaking, rubbed his eyes. _Pull yourself together, John Watson. Every morning, really?_   “Of course, I’m muttering like an idiot to myself…again” he forced through clenched teeth.  

The floorboard in front of the bedroom door creaked as John limped back to bed. He set the alarm for a few more hours. Sleep would let him forget again, for a few more hours. _Just a few more hours, and I’ll face life._ He laid down methodically and stared at the still made, cold side of the bed, trying to remember the dream. The longer he stared, the less he could remember, but looking was comforting. “Please, God” he breathed nearly silently. Warm, shameful liquid burned his eyes. “Let me dream of him. Just as he was, just the selfish prick he was” he laughed humourlessly. “I almost miss feeling like a bloody idiot.” _And I certainly miss the man responsible._

**Author's Note:**

> title/Beginning Sherlock quote from _We Are Nowhere, and It's Now_ by Bright Eyes


End file.
